


Young Justice Riders

by museofspeed



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museofspeed/pseuds/museofspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timothy Drake goes west to oversee the running of Wayne Ranch. He hears rumors that the outlaw Kid Flash has been seen around. It's a Young Justice Western AU. What more do you want from me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Good, the Bad, and the Speedy

Timothy Drake stepped off the train and looked around at the rolling countryside that would be his home for the next few months, if not longer.

It wasn't that he resented Bruce Wayne for sending him out here. He was honored and proud that Wayne had shown enough faith in him to trust Tim to manage the neglected ranch. Tim really was a city boy, though. Too much open space out here.

Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne's personal assistant, had come with Tim to help him settle and report on how Tim was handling it. Now he stepped off the train with Tim's trunk.

"The carriage seems to be running late, Master Timothy," Alfred said.

Tim nodded. "Well, our train did come," he glanced at his watch, "five minutes after scheduled time. I'm sure they've got a good reason for being late."

Four minutes later, Tim noticed a carriage surrounded in a cloud of dust advancing up the road. It arrived at the train station and skidded to a halt.

A boy hopped out of the carriage. He had shaggy, unkempt hair and a face that looked like it had been scrubbed clean recently, but it hadn't done much good. The boy's face was covered in dust from the road. He looked to be about Tim's age, maybe a little younger. He caught Tim's eye and grinned. His eyes glinted gold in the light.

"You two would be Mr. Drake an' Mr. Pennyworth, right?" the boy said.

Tim nodded. "Yes, we are. You're from Wayne Ranch?"

"Yep, name's Bart. Bart Allen. Max Crandall's my uncle."

Crandall was the man Wayne had hired to keep an eye on things at the ranch. Tim nodded again.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Allen," he said, offering his hand.

Allen looked oddly amused, but he shook Tim's hand, then went to help Alfred with the trunks. Tim discreetly wiped the dust off of his hands.

"Sorry I'm late," Allen said, clambering back into the driver's seat. "Impulse here's the fastest horse around, but I lost track of time."

"It's fine," Tim said. "Let's just get to the ranch."

Allen flashed a grin. "Gotcha, Mr. Drake. How fast can I go?"

It was an odd question. "We're in no hurry."

Allen looked a little put-out. He snapped the reins and the horse started walking.

 

Mr. Crandall had kept Wayne Ranch from running completely to the ground at minimal cost to Mr. Wayne. He shook Tim's hand and offered to show him around.

It was hard to believe this man could be related to Bart Allen. Whereas Allen seemed to be constantly in motion, Crandall moved as though wading through molasses.

Tim took in every detail as Mr. Wayne had taught him. After Mr. Crandall had excused himself, Tim unpacked. He neatly folded all of his clothes and put them in the closet. He knew that later Alfred would come through and refold them all, but it was good to establish his own system of organization.

After he had pulled everything out of his trunk, he removed the fake bottom.

Here was where his most precious items had been stashed. The black mask. The wide-brimmed black hat. The red leather vest with the yellow R stitched on the front. The green shirt. The black gloves. The green leather riding boots. The special saddle and reins he'd designed. The belt with lock picks, smoke pellets, special darts, rope, anything and everything he might need, and no guns.

As soon as night fell, he'd explore the surrounding area. As soon as night fell, Robin would ride again.

 

Tim snuck out, careful not to make any noise. Alfred met him at the door.

"Do be careful, Master Timothy," he said.

Tim smiled. "I'll do what I can," he said.

He needed a horse. He walked silently to the stable.

The door creaked. He'd have to oil that.

"Who's there?"

Allen. The boy slept in the room above the stables, but Tim had assumed that he would be asleep by now.

He melted into the shadows.

Allen lit a lantern and held it high. He looked around.

"Hello?" he said.

Tim said nothing.

Allen looked around again. Very quietly, he whispered, "Wally?"

Wally? Who was Wally? Tim would need to investigate that. Allen snuffed out the lantern and pushed open the door. He slipped out. Tim took advantage of his absence to steal a horse. With any luck, he'd have it back before Allen noticed.

 

He didn't see anything in his first hour of patrol. It wasn't until he stopped to water his horse that he heard anything at all.

A cry for help.

He remounted quickly and rode to see what he could do.

Tim found a bald man struggling to get up.

"Are you alright, sir?" he asked, leaning over to offer the man a hand.

"I'll be fine," he said, "but they're getting away!"

"Who? Your attackers?"

The man nodded. "It was the Kid Flash and someone else. Both wearing masks."

Tim had heard of the Kid Flash. Wallace West, fastest gun around, wanted for the murder of Marshal Barry Allen.

"If it really was the Kid Flash, he'll be long gone by now, friend."

"He stole something from me!" the man said.

"I can do my best to get it back, sir."

The man glared at Tim suspiciously. "Who are you?" he asked.

"They call me Robin," Tim said. "And you?"

"The name's Lex Luthor," he said, "and if you're after Kid Flash, I'm your man."

"Sure," Tim said. "What'd he steal from you?"

"A ring with a green stone set in it. It's more of sentimental value than anything else."

Tim nodded. "I'll be in touch." He spurred his horse and ran off.

 

Tim puzzled over the case as he rode home. Wayne had made him memorize key facts and the faces of all the bandits and outlaws he was likely to meet. Kid Flash wasn't known to have an accomplice, but things change.

Barry Allen…why did that name sound so familiar?

Tim could have smacked himself. Of course. Bart Allen. The names were similar enough that there could be a relationship of some sort there. He'd have to ask. Maybe Allen knew something that could be useful.

 

When Tim went downstairs the next morning, Alfred was cooking breakfast.

"Telegram for you, sir," he said, nodding at the table.

He picked it up and looked at it. It was from his best friend, Conner Kent. He read it and smiled.

"Alfred," he said. "Conner's moving here too," he said. "He's been sent to live for a few months with his cousin, Colonel Kent."

"Oooh," Allen said, walking into the kitchen. "Colonel Kent? His books are something else. I've read 'em all."

"Breakfast is served," Alfred said. He set two plates on the table. Tim and Allen sat down and started eating.

Crandall walked in from outside. "Mr. Drake, Alfred," he said, nodding at Tim and Alfred. "North field needs to be plowed, Bart," he said.

Allen nodded. "Sure, Max, I'll do it after breakfast."

"I'll help," Tim said.

Crandall and Allen turned and looked at him in shock.

"What?" Tim said. "If I'm going to get this place running, I have to know how everything is done."

Allen and Crandall glanced at each other, and simultaneously shrugged.

 

Allen readied the horses while Tim pulled the plow out of the barn.

"You ain't like most landowners, y'know," Allen said. Tim had noticed that Allen had a tendency to say whatever it was that was on his mind without really stopping to think about it. Tim didn't mind, though. Careless speakers often let useful bits of information slip.

"I mean," Allen continued, "it ain't a bad thing, but this? Helpin' out the field hands when you've got more'n enough money to hire more? No one does that. I mean, Luthor certainly doesn't."

"Luthor?" Tim asked. The man who Kid Flash had stolen from. Tim's ally.

"Y'know, the other big landowner around these parts. When things are slow around here, I sometimes do odd jobs on his ranch. Never actually seen the man, but I've heard bad things about him."

That was certainly interesting. Tim would have to do more research. Find out about this Luthor character. First, he had to find out what Allen knew about West.

"Allen - " he started to say, but Allen interrupted him.

"Bart," he said. "Sorry, it's just - no one calls me Allen." He smiled apologetically. "I just keep lookin' over my shoulder for my Grampa when you says 'Allen,' an he's dead."

"Bart," Tim said. He could do that. It seemed a little informal, but if that was what Al- what Bart wanted, he could do it. "Alright."

Bart grinned at him. "Great, thanks. Um, I'm fine with calling you Mr. Drake, if you want, though. I mean, we haven't known each other long."

"Bart," Tim said, "Do you know anything about Wally West?"

A flicker of fear passed over Bart's face, too quickly for anyone who hadn't been trained to notice things such as these to notice.

"W-Wally West?" Bart stammered, "Um, why were you wonderin'?"

"I've heard he's been seen in these parts recently," Tim said. "And the rumor is he's the one who killed your grandfather."

It was a risk. If he was wrong it would be very…embarrassing.

Bart stared at Tim for a moment, then looked away. "I don't know nothin'," he said. "Supposed to be pretty fast, in't he?"

"Yes," Tim said. "So I've heard."

Bart twitched nervously. "Um, so want me to show you how to hook the plow to the horse?"

 

Tim was more prepared the next evening. He took out a horse before putting his costume on. He told Bart not to wait up, that he'd put away the horse on his own.

Bart bit his lip. "Careful out there," he said. "It's dangerous out at night. You could get hurt."

"I'll be fine," Tim said, turning away, but Bart somehow had managed to get in front of him again.

"I'm serious, Mr. Drake," he said. "There're bad people out there, bandits, outlaws."

"Like the Kid Flash?" Tim asked.

Bart looked away. "Yeah," he said quietly. Tim pushed past him, and Bart didn't try to stop him.

Tim tied his horse to a tree and changed into his costume. He'd look into Kid Flash later. For now, he needed to learn more about Lex Luthor.


	2. Ye Olde Speeding Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets an old friend in a bar. Then he meets a best friend at the train station. Also, he makes a new friend. And he learns why it's best not to let Bart drive the carriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to julius12 for the Beta! This is getting long. Seriously, this part was originally a lot longer and not getting any shorter before I decided it would work better as two parts, and I'm only just setting up the plot!

Tim sat down and ordered a beer from the barmaid. He glanced up at her and nodded when she brought it.

"Thanks, Mrs. Dowd," he said.

"Nice to finally see someone with manners around this place," she said. "But you can call me Nina. Everyone does."

Tim shrugged and took the beer. He wasn't here to drink, but it was important to keep up appearances. He stared into the beer and listened to the conversations of the Inn's other patrons. He needed to know more about both the Kid Flash and Lex Luthor, and the people in the bar would be sure to know any gossip that might be floating around.

"As I live and breath, Robin, the Boy Wonder."

Tim turned around quickly, then smiled. "Sheriff Prince. Good to see you again."

Sheriff Diana Prince pulled a stool up and sat down. "What brings you here, Tim?" she asked.

"To the bar? Trying to hear the local gossip."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"Maybe," Tim said. "Know anything about Lex Luthor?"

"Luthor? He's scum, plain and simple. Richest man in these parts. You had a run-in with him?"

"I told him I'd help him get back a ring stolen by Kid Flash and an accomplice."

"Kid Flash?" Diana said. "He's no thief. If he took it, there's probably a reason."

"Kid Flash is a murderer," Tim said flatly. "There's no telling what he might do."

Diana frowned. "There's more to that than you know, Tim. Don't be too hasty with your judgments. You might end up trusting the wrong person." She stood up. "I've got to go. My newest deputy's patrolling for the first time, and I want to check up on her. You know where to find me if you need anything, right?"

"Of course. Take care of yourself, Diana."

"You too, Robin." She tipped her hat and left the bar.

A man tried to grope her as she passed. Without looking down, she broke one of his fingers.

Tim smiled a little. What a woman.

 

"Master Tim!" Alfred shook Tim awake.

"…bwuh?" Tim said, blinking up at Alfred.

"It's not that I have anything against you getting sleep. You don't get enough as it is. But you did promise to pick up Master Conner at the train station, and you'll have to leave now if you want to get there on time."

Tim shot up. "The farm! I was going to help –"

"None of that. Bart's quite capable on his own, you know."

"Fine," Tim said. "Would you have Bart ready the carriage, please?"

"Of course," Alfred said. Tim started pulling on clothes before Alfred had finished closing the door.

He ran downstairs, grabbing a piece of bacon out of the pan. "Thanks, Alfred!" he yelled.

Bart had the carriage ready. Tim opened the door and climbed in. "To the train station, Bart, and hurry!"

Bart smiled. "How fast do you want to go, Mr. Drake?"

Tim waved a hand vaguely. "However fast you'd like! Just get us there!"

"Hyup," Bart said, flicking the rains. The horse started walking.

"C'mon, Impulse," Bart said, flicking the reins again. "3X2(94Z)4A!"

"What the devil – ?" Tim felt the carriage speed up.

"Grab something, Ti – Mr. Drake!" Bart shouted.

Tim grabbed the side, just in the nick of time.

Impulse started galloping faster than any horse Tim had ever seen. Outside, fields and trees and houses whipped by. He wanted to yell at Bart to _slow down,_ but the wind ripped away his words. Bart's golden eyes were bright and he could see that Bart was grinning madly.

After a few minutes, they skidded to a stop in front of the train station.

Tim checked to make sure that he was still alive, and tumbled out of the carriage.

"_I'm_ driving on the way back," Tim said.

"You _said_ you wanted fast," Bart said.

"I didn't mean _deadly!_"

"Hey, Bart Allen!"

Tim turned around and saw a blond girl riding a tall horse.

"Hey, Cassie!" Bart said. "How you doin'?"

"Deputy Sandsmark, speedy. I'm on the job." Cassie flicked her badge. "You could have killed someone!"

"I _didn't!_" Bart said. "I was _careful!_ Mostly."

"You almost killed _me,_" Tim said.

"Whose side are you _on?_" Bart said.

Cassie dismounted. "So who's your friend, Bart?"

"Oh! This is my boss. Deputy Cassie Sandsmark, Mr. Tim Drake."

Tim offered her a hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Deputy," he said.

"Charmed," Cassie replied. "Tim Drake, huh? You're Mr. Wayne's representative, right?"

Tim nodded.

Cassie grinned. "Diana's talked about you. Said a lot of good things."

"You know Sheriff Prince?" Bart said, turning to Tim, eyes wide.

"We've met a few times," Tim said. "She's friends with Bruce Wayne."

"Wow," Bart said.

A whistle blast announced the train's approach.

"I still can't believe you got us here _early,_" Tim said as they watched the train come in. "That shouldn't be possible."

"See? It's a _good_ thing!" Bart insisted.

The train stopped, and Conner Kent stepped out. Conner was tall, well-built, and good looking. He was also Tim's best friend.

"Con!" Tim shouted.

Conner looked down and grinned. "Hey, Tim. And…hello." He climbed off the platform and immediately held out his hand to Cassie. "The name's Conner Kent."

Cassie went pink. "I'm Cassie," she said, taking his hand. Conner kissed it.

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you that your hair is like woven sunshine?" Conner asked.

Cassie blushed some more.

"Come on, Conner," Tim said.

Conner ignored him. "Your eyes are like sapphire drops from the sky."

"Thank you, Conner. I didn't think you'd noticed," Tim said.

Conner glanced up at him, "Huh?"

"Never mind," Tim said with a sigh. "Put your trunk in the carriage and meet back here in half an hour's time, alright?"

"Your mouth is like…um…like…" Conner said to Cassie.

Tim took that as agreement. He glanced at Bart, who was watching Cassie and Conner and snickering. "Want to get something to eat?" he asked.

Bart glanced at him, surprised. "What, with you?"

"Well, _yes_. Is there something wrong with that?"

"It's unusual," Bart said. "You bein' the boss an' all."

"Oh," Tim said. "Well, I'll understand if you'd rather not, then."

"I'm fine with it!" Bart said quickly. "Just kinda surprised you are, Mr. Drake. Though I guess I shouldn't be. You're pretty diff'rent from anyone else I've worked for in the past."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Tim said. "Come on, then. Let's go."


	3. Mr. Allen Is Not Amused.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Tim have lunch. Luthor wants to discuss Business with Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bernard wasn't supposed to join this AU! Why does he follow me around? Why? Thanks to Julius12 for the beta.

The Inn Tim had gone to the night before was open, and in the daylight it seemed a lot less seedy. Tim walked in and found an empty chair. Bart grinned at Nina Dowd and the young man drying mugs beside her.

The man put down the mug he was holding and sauntered over when he saw Bart. "Howdy, Allen," he said.

"I told you to call me Bart, Bernard," Bart said, rolling his eyes.

Bernard smirked and ruffled Bart's hair. "What would the fun in _that_ be, I ask you?"

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Oh!" Bart said. "Bernard, this is Tim Drake. Mr. Drake, this is Bernard Dowd."

"Nice to meet you," Tim said, offering Bernard a hand.

Bernard shook his hand and eyed him up and down.

"One moment," he said. "I have to see how you fit into society. You're wealthy, that much is obvious from your clothes, but you're quite fit," Bernard raised an eyebrow appraisingly, "So you must engage in physical activities. You're browned from the sun, and your hands are callused, so you're no stranger to work, but you're also clearly very intelligent, and, I'd wager, well-read." Bernard dropped Tim's hand. "A study in contradictions, Mr. Drake."

Tim shrugged. He wasn't sure what to think of Bernard yet. He was certainly…unique. "I guess so, Mr. Dowd. Do you work here?"

Bernard waved an arm around the bar. "My family owns it. So yes. I suppose I'm supposed to offer you food about now, correct?"

"That would be nice," Tim said.

Bart grinned. "Steak for me, as usual, and potatoes."

"Getting another double portion?" Bernard remarked.

Bart glanced at Tim. "Uh, single's fine."

"I'll take the same," Tim said.

"Alright," Bernard said. "I'll come out with 'em when they're done."

He walked away, whistling.

"He's certainly something," Tim commented.

Bart nodded. "He is. But I like him. He's funny."

"I suppose he might be taken for funny, in some lights..."

"Mr. Drake!"

Tim turned. Luthor was approaching him with a wide smile.

"Oh, no," Bart whispered.

Tim wasn't surprised. Luthor owned most of the nearby land. He stood up.

"Mr. Luthor, correct?" he asked, offering a hand.

"Yes, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Drake."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Luthor."

"I've been hoping to run into you for a while, now," Luthor said. He turned towards Bart.

"You, you're Bart Allen, aren't you?"

Bart was sitting very, very still. He looked up sharply at the sound of his name.

"Y-yeah. What's it to you?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you be getting our drinks?"

"Um," Bart said. He looked towards Tim nervously.

"_Mr. Allen_ is eating with me," Tim said firmly. Bart may have preferred to be called Bart, but Luthor had been treating Bart rudely. He saw Bart give a small smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Dining with the help?" Luthor said. "How...quaint."

"Mr. Allen is my friend," Tim said. "I'm dining with him because I enjoy his company."

"Of course," Luthor said. "Though would you mind if I stole you for a moment or two? I have some business to discuss with you."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Business?"

"_Private_ business," Luthor insisted.

"Well," Tim frowned. It was probably wise to hear Luthor out. They were working together against Kid Flash, though Luthor didn't know it, and even if Luthor seemed sleazy, it didn't necessarily mean he was a bad guy.

"I'll be back in a bit, Mr. Allen," Tim said.

Bart frowned a little, but he nodded anyway. "Sure, Mr. Drake," he said.

Tim followed Luthor to a more secluded corner. "What's this business you wanted to talk about?" Tim asked.

Luthor didn't answer. Instead he nodded over towards Bart.

"That boy, you known him long?"

Tim shrugged. "Not very, I suppose, but he's a hard worker. Very trustworthy. Why?"

"I used to employ him," Luthor said.

"He mentioned that he'd done work for you," Tim said cautiously.

"I had to fire him," Luthor said. "I have reason to believe he associates himself with known criminals."

Tim frowned. "What was the business you wished to discuss?"

"Straight to the point, then? I like that. No beating around the bush for you." Luthor smiled. "I was wondering if we could work out a price for your land."

"I'm sorry, it's not for sale," Tim said.

"I realize you might be reluctant, but I can be very generous," Luthor said.

"Even if I were interested, it isn't up to me. It's _Wayne_ property," Tim said sharply. "And we aren't interested in selling."

"I warn you, things can sometimes get...messy around here," Luthor said. "There are many lawbreakers around here. It's dangerous."

"You've done fine," Tim said.

"I've got the best protection around," Luthor said.

"I'm sure I'll be able to handle things," Tim said. "But thanks for your concern."

Luthor opened his mouth to respond, but then he stopped, eyes locking on something behind Tim.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Drake," Luthor said. "I wish you the best of luck, and my offer will remain open to you." Luthor shook Tim's hand again and walked away.

Tim turned. Conner was waving in the window. Tim beckoned him inside and went back to Bart.

"Did he say anything about me?" Bart asked quickly.

"Nothing that I'd believe," Tim said. He grinned up at Conner. "Well? How'd it go?"

"She slaps _hard,_" Conner said. He was smirking, though.

"But...?" Tim prompted.

"She said she'd let me take her out to dinner some time!"

"Good for you," Tim said. "Conner Kent, this is Bart Allen. I tried to introduce you to him earlier, but you were distracted by the feminine wiles of Deputy Sandsmark."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Allen," Conner said.

"You too, Mr. Kent," Bart said. "Call me Bart."

"Oh, _good,_" Conner said. "Call me Conner, or Con."

"Sweet," Bart said. "Our food's here, T – Mr. Drake."

Tim smiled a little. "You know, Bart, if you want, you can call me Tim. I don't actually mind."

"Really? Thanks!" Bart said, grinning. "Because it's not that I minded, but it did feel a little weird what with us being almost the same age an' all."

Tim nodded.

"Tim," Conner said, leaning over a little. "Who was that man you were talking to?"

"Who, Luthor?" Tim said.

"The bald guy?" Conner said.

Tim nodded. "He owns some land round these parts."

"He gave me this weird look," Conner said. "I couldn't tell if he just sorta hated me for no reason or...I dunno...really cared about me. And I've _never_ met the guy."

"Luthor's a bad guy," Bart said. "I don't think it'd be caring about you."

"He left fairly quickly after he saw you," Tim said. "Strange."

"I wonder why," Kon said.

Tim shook his head. "It was probably just a coincidence. Let's get your stuff back to the ranch, Con."

"I'll drive!" Bart said.

"No, you won't," Tim said.

Bart grinned good naturedly. "I was hoping you'd have forgotten."

"Unfortunately, I don't think I ever will," Tim said. "What was that you yelled at the horse?"

"What?" Bart said. "3X2(94Z)4A?"

"Yes, that," Tim said. "What does it mean?"

"Oh! It's sorta like 'whoa' or 'giddy up'," Bart said. "See, the _Chambers_ trained Impulse."

"Who're the Chambers?" Tim asked.

"How can you not have heard of the Chambers?" Conner asked. "They're the best horse trainers in the world!" He looked at Bart. "How'd _you_ get a horse trained by John and Jesse Chamber?"

"I'm friends with Jesse," Bart said cheerily.

"Can you introduce us?" Conner asked.

"No, he can't," Tim said. "Don't you already have a date with Deputy Sandsmark?"

"Um, yeah," Conner said. "Your point?"

"Why am I friends with you, again?" Tim said.


	4. In Blackest Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim follows a lead Luthor gives him. Also, he has some interesting houseguests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to the wonderful [info]julius12, who both beta'd this fic, and also encouraged me to actually finish it.

Tim had not had much trouble making friends since he'd moved out to Wayne Ranch to care for it in Wayne's absence. He'd had Alfred, of course, and Bart may have been a bit… eccentric, but Tim found it impossible not to like him.

Still, he was glad Conner had decided to come visit his cousin, the famous writer Colonel Kent. He'd missed his best friend dearly.

He was also glad that Bart had taken to Conner so quickly. It wasn't surprising. Conner was very likeable. Sometime surprisingly so. Conner had been slapped by more girls than most men courted over an entire lifetime, yet most of those girls had agreed to dine with Conner anyway. Like Deputy Cassie Sandsmark. Seemed even Sheriff Prince's tough-as-nails apprentice wasn't immune to Conner's charms.

Nor was Bart, apparently. Bart listened to Conner's tales of the city with eyes wide. Tim had felt obliged to point out the parts where Conner clearly exaggerated, but mostly he just watched his two friends contentedly.

Conner had left that evening with promises to return the next day, and Tim had headed out to the much less pleasant portion of the evening.

He'd taken out a horse and told Bart not to wait up. Once in the woods, he put on his mask and gear and went to meet Luthor. He neither trusted nor liked the man, especially since he'd tried to threaten Tim Drake in a futile attempt to win Wayne's land. But he needed Luthor's help to apprehend the Kid Flash and his accomplice.

Of course, Luthor didn't know that Robin and Tim Drake were one and the same. And that was the way it would stay.

Luthor had told Robin that he had an idea of where Kid Flash would be that night. They would meet and follow the criminal back to wherever he was storing the goods he had stolen.

They'd retrieve Luthor's ring, the one with the green gemstone, and confiscate the rest of the goods. If all went according to plan, they'd also catch the outlaws themselves.

Robin met Luthor at the appointed time. They were both exactly fifteen minutes early.

Tim nodded cordially at Luthor, and tied his horse to a tree far enough away as not to attract any attention.

Kid Flash appeared exactly on time, companion in tow, as Luthor had predicted.

"Really hate having to slow down to get to our stuff," the accomplice said.

"It's safest here," Kid Flash said. "It's okay, kid. No one knows about this place except our folk."

Except Luthor, apparently. Tim spared him a glance. Eventually, he'd have to learn what Luthor's sources were. Perhaps one of West's allies had decided to turn to the side of the angels. But why report to Luthor? Why not the police?

West had started moving again. Tim motioned to Luthor to remain in place and slowly he moved forward, almost invisibly.

Wayne had taught him well. Neither of the men noticed Tim as he followed them through the undergrowth, silent as a bat.

They stopped at a giant tree. The branches were blackened from repeated lightning strikes. The outlaws paused for a moment to look up at the tree.

"Still say it's kinda creepy," West's partner said.

"Come on," West said. "We don't have long. You have to get back to the ranch."

His partner nodded.

Tim must have blinked because the two of them vanished. It looked almost as if they'd gone into the tree, but that was impossible.

Damn. Tim was supposed to be a better tracker than this. He walked around the tree, looking for a clue, but he couldn't find anything. He heard muffled voices, but he couldn't figure out where from.

Unless they'd somehow managed to get in the tree. Tim couldn't see any wires or mirrors, though. And the tree felt solid.

He knocked on it, and the voices stopped.

"Kid, RUN!" West yelled. "We've been found out!"

"Come with me!" the other one said. The two of them came out through the trunk of the tree… there was no question that they'd done it, but Tim couldn't think how it was possible.

The two of them started running faster than Tim had ever seen anyone run. They were like blurs on the wind.

There was no way Tim could catch them. But as they'd left, one of them had dropped a lead case.

He picked it up and opened it. It contained a ring with a green gem.

Luthor's ring.

Well, at least the mission hadn't been entirely a failure. Tim pocketed the ring and headed back.

Luthor was waiting for him.

"You didn't capture them?" He asked. "I delivered them to you on a platter! Why aren't they caught?"

"They got away," Tim said. "I doubt they'll be back. I got your ring, though." He tossed the lead box to Luthor. "I'll get them. Give me time. If you have more information, tell me. I'll meet you in the woods tomorrow at eleven sharp again. Same spot. If you don't have any information, don't bother coming."

Luthor narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I should take my information elsewhere," he said. "I have friends who know to respect me. You should too."

"You want the outlaws caught," Tim said. "I'm the one doing that. You will tell me what you know."

"Hmm," Luthor said. "Of course."

Tim rode away without saying good bye.

 

Tim changed in the woods and went to put his horse away.

Bart was in the barn rubbing down his horse, Impulse. "Oh! Tim!" he said, shooting him a slightly guilty look. "Wasn't expecting you t'be out this late still!"

Tim shrugged and dismounted. "Keep late hours sometimes. You should go to bed, Bart."

"I don't sleep much," Bart said. "Never seen the need. Plus, I like bein' with the animals." He rushed to help Tim remove the saddle and bridle.

"Your choice, I guess." Though it did make it hard for Robin to ride unnoticed. Tim could work with it, though. He'd had bigger set-backs.

"Why're you riding out so late anyways?" Bart asked. "I mean, most folk don't like riding at night."

"We've already established that I'm not 'most folk,' Bart."

"I know," Bart said. "Anything exciting happen?"

"Nothing really. Nice evening."

Bart nodded and started brushing Tim's horse. "You can go on to bed if y'want. I got it from here. Hell, you coulda let me do it all."

"I like helping," Tim said.

Bart nodded thoughtfully.

Suddenly, Crandall burst in, looking even sterner than usual.

"Bart," he said. He looked at Tim and nodded. "Mr. Drake," he added. "You have callers at the house. Alfred's entertaining them, but you should go there immediately."

Tim frowned. "Callers?"

"Guy Gardner and Hal Jordan," Crandall told him.

"_Guy Gardner?_" Bart said, horrorstruck. "Kid Baltimore?"

"Yes," Crandall said, striding over and putting a hand on Bart's shoulder. "He seemed…agitated. I'd go to him, Mr. Drake."

Tim nodded. "Thanks, Crandall," he said. "I'll go as soon as I've finished with the horses."

"We can take care of the horses," Bart said, words tripping over each other as he spoke hurriedly. "Go. If Mr. Guy Gardner's here, it's gotta be important, right?"

Tim nodded slowly. "I suppose," he admitted. "Well, good night."

Bart gave him a shaky grin. "'Night!"

Tim walked up to the house. He'd heard about Gardner. Kent wrote about the famed Kid Baltimore's adventures in his "Wild West Bravados." The man had a mighty reputation. However, he knew for a fact that when Wayne had crossed Gardner, Wayne had taken him down with one punch. For that reason, among others, Gardner hated Wayne. Tim wouldn't be surprised if the hatred were extended to Tim too.

He knew of Jordan too. The man was, if possible, more famous than Gardner. The Specter, he'd been known as. He'd put the fear of God into more than one low-down criminal in his time. But he'd retired all that to chase a dream. The man was determined to build a flying machine.

But if he were here with Guy Gardner, well, there was no telling what they wanted.

Tim entered the sitting room and nodded at the men. "Gardner, Jordan," he said cordially. "This is a pleasant surprise. I'll admit, I have few visitors at this hour."

"We're not here for pleasure, Drake," Gardner said, scowling.

"Manners, Guy," Jordan said.

Tim didn't react outwardly, but he was surprised. Few would dare to talk to Guy Gardner like that.

Gardner definitely didn't like it.

"Fine, Jordan, if you're so good at this, you do it."

Jordan smiled at Tim and offered a hand. "Drake," he said. "Been a while."

"That it has," Tim said, shaking his head. "What can I do for you?"

"We heard word that Kid Flash was hiding out here on Wayne Ranch," Jordan said. "Now, we're sure that you've got nothing to do with it – "

Gardner gave a loud snort. "Speak for yourself."

Jordan ignored him. "We'd appreciate it if you'd let us search your lands."

"I'd know if he were here," Tim said. "Who are your sources?"

"Classified," Gardner and Jordan said together.

"Look, we just want a look around," Jordan said. "We'll be quick."

Tim frowned. "I don't – "

The doors crashed open. A large black man and a white man who looked like he would be more comfortable with a paintbrush than with the gun he was holding walked inside.

They were dragging Bart, handcuffed in some strange sort of green material, between the two of them.

Wayne had trained Tim very well. Even so, he couldn't restrain a flinch.

"West got away," the black man said. "But we found his friend."

"Not possible," Tim said. "Surely you don't mean to suggest that Bart is a wanted criminal?"

"It ain't what you think!" Bart said, looking up at him.

"Drake, this is John Stewart and Kyle Rayner," Jordan said. "Rayner, Stewart, this is Tim Drake."

Tim felt that under the circumstances, he could be forgiven for forgetting his manners.

"You've handcuffed my field hand! Did your _source_ tell you to arrest him too?"

"Yeah," Gardner said. "He said this kid's been helping the Kid Flash. Now get out of my way, Drake, or we'll have to take you in too."

"I demand proof," Tim said. "Or are men no longer innocent until proven guilty in this country? Don't make me call for the sheriff!"

"Sheriff Prince," Jordan scoffed. "Sure, she's pretty tough, for a woman, but she's got a blind spot for the Kid Flash."

"Don't matter anyway," Gardner said. "We'll be long gone by the time she gets here. Don't stop us, Drake."

"Your source," Tim said, not moving. He was going on a hunch, but he didn't have any other suspects. "Was it Luthor?"

None of the men answered.

"He wants Wayne ranch," Tim said. "He's using you. And he hates Bart."

"That doesn't mean it isn't true," Rayner said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Drake. We saw him using the Speed."

"The Speed?" Tim asked.

"The Kid Flash is the fastest gun in the West," Stewart said. "This kid could give him a run for his money."

Bart always did move faster than anyone else.

Tim scowled. "How does that prove anything?"

"The Kid's partner is just as fast," Jordan said.

Tim frowned. He could see the logic. He'd long suspected there was a connection between Bart and Kid Flash that went deeper than Barry Allen, Bart's grandfather and West's uncle, but he didn't want to believe it. He knew Bart. The kid was incapable of harming anyone. He didn't want it to be true.

He knelt in front of Bart. "Bart," he said. "Tell me it ain't true and I'll fight to free you right here and now."

Bart didn't answer. He didn't even meet Tim's eyes.

"Bart," Tim said firmly. He grabbed Bart's chin and made him look at Tim. "Tell me you weren't helping Kid Flash. Please."

"It ain't what you think," Bart insisted.

Tim dropped Bart's chin and stood up.

"Get him out of my sight," he said quietly. "Sorry for the trouble, gentlemen."

"Tim!" Bart said, panicked. "I had to! Wally's not a bad guy! He's my cousin andheonlydidwhathehadto!"

Tim closed his eyes and didn't answer.

"Thank you, Drake," Jordan said, offering his hand. "I'm sure you can find a new field hand without too much trouble."

Tim shook Jordan's hand and smoothed his expression into a smile. "Thanks, Jordan. Nice doing business with you."

He didn't say that while he knew he could get a new field hand, it wouldn't be Bart. What was the point? Allen may have been a fine field hand, but he'd lied to Tim. He'd betrayed Tim's trust. He was a criminal.

Tim wished he'd never met the boy. It would have saved him from feeling this sick, rotting feeling in his stomach.


End file.
